


Anxiety

by Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer



Series: Comfortember 2020 [4]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Anxious Greg House, Caring James Wilson (House M.D.), Comfort No Hurt, Comfortember 2020, Gen, Greg House Loves James Wilson, Greg House and James Wilson Being in Love, Greg House is Bad With Emotions, James Wilson Loves Greg House, M/M, OR IS IT, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer
Summary: He wants to reach over and grab House's hand to keep it from moving, but the thought is only a quick, fleeting one that doesn't last, because he shies away from it the moment it arrives.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Series: Comfortember 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995943
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 of comfortember, 'anxiety'

Wilson can always tell when House is anxious.

It doesn't matter why, or about what, or how severe it is, it's always the same pattern. He'll walk faster, for starters; wherever they are in the hospital, if Wilson's nearby and he hears a rapid 'thump, click' of House's cane, odds are that when he looks up to see if House is nearby, he'll catch a glimpse of the man walking down the hall as fast as his leg will allow him to. Another tell is how much he fidgets; Wilson notices this when they're alone, when House's eyes dart around the room at practically supersonic speed and he can't keep his hands off of his cane, twirling it and tapping it against the ground in patterns that almost seem musical, but Wilson can never quite tell what song he's tapping out. It's House's way of soothing himself when he doesn't have actual music present - which is, yet, another thing. He listens to music more often when he's anxious, when he has the chance. Wilson hears his radio blasting from his office constantly. He'll also hear the familiar _thud, thud, thud_ of House's ball when he passes by.

Today is one of those days. Wilson's just stepping out of the elevator, walking down the hallway to his own office, but he slows when he passes House's. There's music playing - jazz, comforting and slow. But House looks a little less than comforted; he's pacing, back and forth, back and forth. His cane taps furiously against the floor as he moves, even when he shifts his weight to his good leg. His ball is clenched tightly in his other hand, and every so often he'll let it drop to the ground and catch it again when it bounces off of the floor and back up to him.

There's a million things House could be anxious about. Wilson tries to go through all of the possibilities as he slows to a stop to watch his best friend. A patient, his team, clinic duty… did he get into trouble with Cuddy? Wilson hasn't heard anything on that front, though, and usually when something's bothering House about a patient or his team, he'll come to Wilson about it.

Wilson sighs, throwing a longing look toward his office. Just once, he wants a day where he can work without interruption. But he knows this is going to nag at him unless he doesn't figure out what's wrong with House now - they're far too similar on that front, as much as the man hates to admit it. House isn't the only one who can't resist a good puzzle, but their motives are different. Wilson doesn't want to know just for the sake of knowing - he wants to know in case there's anything he can do for him, because he can't stand to see House torturing himself like this over anything. And right now, that's what he's doing, torturing himself. Seeing House anxious isn't rare for Wilson, he can't count how many times he's seen him all but frantic. But he expresses his anxiety in different ways - usually through explosive, impulsive tendencies - which means that House won't be the only one at risk, either, if Wilson doesn't step in and calm the waters. Comforting an anxious House isn't too hard. All it takes is some beer and a long talk.

He makes a quick pit stop to his office before he retreats back to House's, cracking the door open and waiting for House to spot him and turn around to turn his music off before he speaks, offering a small smile. "Taking off early today. Wanna go get dinner? I'm starving."

House peers back at him silently for a moment, dark auburn eyelashes casting shadows over ocean blue eyes. He starts to nod, then quirks an eyebrow back at him. "Only if you're paying."

"Oh, you mean, like I always do?" Wilson retorts, opening the door further for him.

House smirks at that. The rapid tapping calms a little, and he tosses his ball back into place on his desk before limping forward, replacing Wilson's grip on the door with his own so that Wilson can step back so he can exit. "Just making sure we're still on the same page." He pauses as the door swings shut behind him, and makes a beeline for the elevator. Wilson follows, keeping pace with him easily, shoulder to shoulder. "There's a monster truck rally tonight," House says suddenly, off-hand, but the comment - the offer - isn't lost on Wilson. He doesn't want to be alone in his apartment tonight. And Wilson should be working, he can't say no to House today. He's hardly ever able to say no to House - but especially now, knowing he _needs_ the company.

So he nods as he presses the button to call the elevator up, and throws a glance in House's direction. His fingers tap a steady rhythm against the handle of his cane, head tilted back to stare upwards toward the ceiling with his mouth half open. This time Wilson recognizes the melody, only because he heard that same song playing on House's radio just a moment ago. He wants to reach over and grab House's hand to keep it from moving, but the thought is only a quick, fleeting one that doesn't last, because he shies away from it the moment it arrives.

"How do you feel about Thai tonight?" Wilson offers instead, and his voice wavers as he speaks because he can feel his heart pounding all the way in his throat. House shoots him an odd look, curiosity flickering through his eyes, and the tapping stops completely as he stares at him.

After a moment, House dips his head in a nod. "Monster trucks and Thai."

"And beer."

House chuckles at that, looking up as the elevator dings. "And beer," he agrees. "It's a _date_."

If he notices the way Wilson twitches in response to his words - and Wilson is sure that he does - he doesn't say anything. Just crosses through and holds the door until Wilson can force himself to follow him inside. The only indication that House _did_ notice, and the odds are he did, is a rather taunting smirk that tugs at the man's lips as he presses a button with his cane. Wilson watches him, and then watches as the doors close, and rolls his eyes after a moment.

One day, he's going to kill Gregory House.

Until then, it's monster trucks, and Thai food, and beer, and glances shared and comments thrown out and things they both pick up on, but neither one of them say a word about.

And honestly, Wilson isn't sure he'd have it any other way.


End file.
